Mission: Misto
by RIPStitches
Summary: Just a bit of fun. The Tugger wants Misto's help for one of his hare-brained schemes, but it rapidly turns into a mission to drag Misto, kicking and screaming, out of the closet. And then take advantage of him. So...banter, then slash.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't really know where I was going with this, I just thought it might be fun. Also, I was watching a lot of Scrubs when I started writing it, so I think Tugs came out sounding a bit too much like Turk...sorry about that. This isn't finished, it's about half-done, and I was going to finish it and upload it as a oneshot, but I decided that FOR THE GREATER GOOD!, because we've only got a few stories to go until the Cats section has 1000 stories, I'd upload this bit as a first chapter now and add the second chapter as soon as I can. **

'Come oooon' coaxed the Tugger, doing his best to look sweet, and somehow managing to look even more smarmy and conniving than usual. 'Please?'

Quaxo stifled a laugh. He really was pathetic.

'Rum' he said pityingly 'You know as well as I do that this mission is completely doomed. To begin with, you thought it up, which is a death sentence for any plan that isn't 'gyrate at them'. And furthermore, you haven't even got a strategy. So far your idea is 'break into the pet shop because there are hot cats in there-'

'Which there are' interrupted the Tugger.

'How do you know?'

'I can smell them.'

'You can't smell what someone looks like, that's ridiculous.'

'I can. Skills honed by years of experience. You wait.'

Quaxo sighed and let it go. 'Anyway, my point is, you have no idea how you're going to get in there or what you're going to do if you do somehow manage it...yes, alright, stop sniggering, I know what your _eventual _ aim is...'

'But that's why I need you! You're good at all that - you know, planning, strategising, sneaking about, making people think they're alone and you're up on the roof when actually you're behind them...' He shot Quaxo a dirty look. 'You saw NOTHING.'

Quaxo smirked. 'Whatever you say...

Tugger ignored him and continued. 'Stuff like that. You can probably just magic us in there! You do the thinking, I'll do the charm, we'll stick to our strengths. You can be my wingman, chat up the ugly ones for me.'

Quaxo looked horrified. 'I wouldn't – I can't – I mean – I have no interest in trying to seduce innocent pet shop queens! They've probably never been out of the shop in their lives! It's just cruel! Plus' he flushed a little 'I can't – I wouldn't know how. Seduction's not really my area of expertise.'

Tugger snorted in disbelief. 'You're kidding, right? Oh, come on Mistletoes, I've seen you at work, you know the girl-kits all love you.' He put on a ridiculously high voice and widened his eyes, in an approximate imitation of Etcetera, or Jemima, or both. 'Oooh Quaxo, come and play with us! Ooh, Quaxo, you're such a good dancer! Oooh Quaxo, please show us some magic tricks! Ooh Quaxo, you've got such dreamy eyes! Oooh Quaxo, you understand me so well, I feel like I can tell you anything, you're my bestest friend!' Come on, you've got them all eating out of your paw.'

Quaxo chuckled and rolled his eyes. 'Okay. One, you're just annoyed that they spend even a tiny amount of time doing anything other than fantasising about you, and trust me I have to listen to a fair amount of that. Two, _none of them talk like that!_ Well, maybe Etcetera when she's really excited, but none of the others, which you'd know if your interaction with them didn't consist solely of pelvic thrusting in their general direction. And three, that isn't true, and even if, um, even if it was, it's entirely unintentional on my part. I just enjoy their company, alright? I don't have..._designs_ on them. Oh and four, don't call me Mistletoes!'

Tugger sniggered. 'Alright, calm down, Misty...'

'Or that!'

'Fine, fine. But what about you and that Victoria chick? Who, may I say, is a slammin' hottie... You're always together, I figured you were, you know...' Tugger made a crude gesture with his paws. Quaxo looked shocked and slapped them away, which initiated a brief, pointless scuffle, damaging nothing except perhaps their masculinity.

'Victoria' said Quaxo deliberately, clinging to what dignity he had left, 'is my best friend, and a lovely person, so I'd appreciate you not talking about her like that.'

Tugger put on his best pout. 'I thought I was your best friend!'

'I don't know where you got that idea. You are my annoying housemate, and that is all. In fact you're a pompous a-'

But the Tugger was no longer listening. Instead, he was regarding Quaxo with a look of sly assessment on his striped face. 'So' he said slowly 'Victoria not interested, is that it?'

Quaxo blushed a little, trapped. 'No, er, actually she – she said...I mean...' He was mumbling into his chest by now, not meeting the taller tom's eye. 'She is' he admitted. 'But I don't – I'm not really interested in her like that...I just don't see her that way.'

'Riiiiight' drawled the Tugger, his cunning grin widening.

'Right.' confirmed Quaxo.

'You know' said the Tugger airily, as if changing the subject 'It isn't just the girl–kits in your fanclub either. I caught Pouncival and Tumblebrutus fighting over who's going to do some dance with you at the ball the other day.'

'Really?' giggled Quaxo, amused. 'Who won?'

'Tumble. The other one kept falling over.'

'What were you doing spying on the tomkits anyway? I'm surprised you even know their names, I've never seen you take much notice of them.'

'I know more than you think, Mr.-I'm –friends-with-everyone. They don't call me 'artful and knowing' for nothing.'

'Meaning you lurk in the shadows watching the unwary.'

'More or less, yeah. Anyway, I'm artful and knowing, and now that I come to think of it-'

The Tugger leant back lazily in the kitchen armchair he was occupying, and smirked up at Quaxo, who was perched on the arm, half-heartedly washing his paws. 'Now I come to think of it' he continued thoughtfully 'I don't recall seeing you show any interest in _any_ queens, _ever. _'

Quaxo blushed furiously. 'I don't know what you're trying to imply.'

'Just wondering why that might be, that's all.'

'Look, I might not be as _obvious _as you, but just because I don't run around wiggling and jiggling at any queen unfortunate enough to come near me-'

The Tugger shrugged. 'Well, they seem to enjoy it, and who am I to deprive them of enjoyment?'

'_Whatever, _it doesn't mean I...it doesn't mean I haven't...I don't...'

'Haven't Don't What, Misty?'

'Um...it doesn't mean...er...that I don't like them.' Quaxo finished lamely. 'And don't call me Misty!'

'I think' said Tugger, grinning delightedly and completely ignoring Quaxo's irritated expression 'that Misty prefers toms...'

'That's ridiculous! Stop it!'

'No, no, it's not ridiculous at all...in fact, it makes perfect sense! Why didn't I see it before?'

'I don't know what you're talking about!'

'I always figured you were just playing a very clever game with the princesses...but you're telling the truth, aren't you? You really _don't_ have 'designs' on them!'

'No, I..'

'Oh, so you do?'

'No, but..'

Quaxo, speechless with frustration, realised he was trapped. He hissed furiously at the Tugger, only just restraining himself from throttling his now-giggling housemate.

'I'm right, aren't I! You're a total closet case!'

'I'm NOT! I'm straight, I just...haven't found the right queen...'

Tugger chuckled, backing away from Quaxo, whose fur was beginning to sparkle ominously and shift to pure black.

'Misty' he said, 'You're about as straight as a Slinky.'

'Shut up.'

'Misty and Pouncie, sitting in a tree...' sang Tugger, 'K.I.S.S.I.N – AAH!' He dodged a fireball that Mistoffelees, now armed with crackling paws and a dangerous expression, sent his way.

'SHUT UP!' yelled Misto. 'I swear, if you don't shut up I will roast your arse so badly...! I don't even like Pouncival!'

'Oooh, you'll roast my ass, will you? Kinky...' interjected the Tugger, from where he was hiding behind the chair.

'STOP IT!'

'Misty and Tumble, sitting in a tree...' Tugger was almost helpless with laughter, which Misto's enraged expression was only making worse.

'Right, that's it, I'm going to kill you.'

Tugger screamed girlishly and leapt for the top of the dresser, still singing. Below him, glasses shattered as Misto let loose another lightning bolt, his aim compromised by his rage.

'First comes love, then comes marriage...'

'STOP IT!' Misto yelled again, in the direction of the Tugger, who had bolted into a cupboard, out of sight.

'I'll stop it if you come with me to the pet shop.'

'No!'

'Misty and Bustopher, sitting in a tree...'

'Rum, that's disgusting!'

'Come to the pet shop.'

Quaxo let out an exasperated sigh, realising the Tugger would happily taunt him all evening and possibly for the rest of his life. 'Fine, fine, I'll come on your stupid mission, just SHUT UP!'

'Ok, ok...can I hum?'

'No singing, humming, whistling, tapping, talking about anything to do with this, or in fact making any noise at all that's not strictly necessary. Ok?'

'Promise you won't hurt me if I come out?'

'Yes...'

'Because I won't hurt you if _you_ come out...'

The cupboard door was suddenly a lot more...burnt... than before.

'Fine, fine' giggled the Tugger 'that's the last one, I promise.'

'It'd better be. Come on' said Quaxo sourly, turning towards the door with an irritated swish of his tail. 'The sooner we get this debacle over with, the better.'

**Well, that was all pretty pointless, wasn't it! There will be slash next chapter. Yup. Meanwhile, reviews are loved and appreciated. **

**Oh, and if you're confused by the way I sometimes refer to him as Quaxo and sometimes as Misto, let me explain - in this story (and most of mine, actually) Quaxo is his normal name that most people call him, but Tugger calls him Mistoffelees, or related nicknames, all the time, partly just to annoy him. Mistoffelees is his magician name, so as soon as he starts doing magic and changing his appearance to black all over, I refer to him as Misto. **

**That makes sense in my head, anyway. 0o**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok folks, here's chapter 2; I'm afraid it's not as funny as the first one, and there is a lot more slash. There's also a lot more cheese. I actually use the 'and they fell on top of each other' plot device, beloved of crappy slash writers, and it's all too fast and crappy and I'm not at all happy with it, but I can't fiddle around with it any more. Just....read it slowlyish? And enjoy. There will be one more chapter, quite a short one, which should restore some of the lolz.**

**Thankyou so much to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciate you taking the time. LOVE.**

'Ok' said the Tugger, with confidence he didn't feel. 'You just....teleport the glass to be somewhere else, and then we'll go in through this window. '

They were perched atop the ridge of the pet shop roof, the last vestiges of sunset lingering above the horizon. It had rained fitfully as they made their way through the maze of streets and gardens to their destination, which had prompted grumbling from Quaxo, and mane-related worries from the Tugger, but it seemed to have stopped for the time being. Quaxo peered apprehensively at the high, narrow window, which protruded from the tiled roof in a small eave.

'I can't just...' he began, but Tugger interrupted him before he could get any further.

'Heard it all before M&Ms, I know perfectly well that you can, so less of the talking and more of the hocus-pocus, yeah?'

Quaxo shot him a dirty look, but didn't argue; the fact was that the Tugger was right, he could quite easily relocate some window glass. He'd had enough practise on cutlery and other household objects, and had even begun to use the technique on himself.

'Alright' he said. 'Just...go over there and don't look, ok?

'Why?'

'I have to do...incantations, magic dust and stuff. You'll distract me.'

The Tugger looked sceptical, but shrugged, sauntered off along the ridge and sat down behind a chimney-stack, where he started washing himself and fluffing up his mane. Mistoffelees waited until he was sure he wasn't looking, and then, with a brief contortion of his facial muscles which really only amounted to a small twitch of his nose, moved the pane in question from its rightful place in the window to the grass at the edge of a neighbouring garden. He didn't really need to recite any spells, make any mystic hand gestures or use his famous magic dust (which was actually just glitter he'd stolen from the human child's bedroom) at all, but it all added to his conjurer's image, which he worked hard to maintain. For this reason, he waited a few minutes before calling the Tugger back, and sprinkled some 'magic dust' around.

'Alright, Rum' he yelled, when he was satisfied it had been long enough. 'I've done it.'

The Tugger strode back over and inspected the window, observing that the glass had indeed vanished, leaving an empty frame.

'Impressive' he grinned. 'Right, you first.'

'Er, I think not. I've done my bit, I'm staying right here. '

'Oh, yeah, I forgot, you don't like queens.'

'Oh for f-' Quaxo threw up his hands in despair. 'How many times? Fine, I'll come. But only because you're clearly too nervous to go on your own.'

'I'm not!'

'You are.'

'Am not.'

'Are too.'

'Am not....'

And, continuing to bicker in this amiable fashion, the two tomcats disappeared through the window and into the darkness beyond.

Silence reigned over the dimly-lit street. The moon sailed out from behind a cloud, pale against the ragged sky, and disappeared again. A car, loud music thudding from its speakers, passed by in the distance. And then....

Suddenly, an ear-splitting yowl broke the silence, immediately followed by an explosion of ferocious barking. This was in turn followed by more feline screeching, a thunder of many claws scrabbling up wooden stairs, and a fresh cacophony of excited baying. Soon afterwards, a black-and-white-and-tan blur that could just about be identified as the two Jellicles shot into the small attic room, moving extremely fast , and followed by at least four large dogs, all of whom looked as if all their Christmases had come at once.

'SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT' yelled the Tugger, leaping frantically for the windowsill, Misto close at his heels. 'DOGS.....SHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT.... MISTO, DO SOMETHING!'

'CRAPCRAPCRAPCRAPCRAPCRAPBOLLOCKS!' squealed Misto, shooting out of the window just behind Tugger.

'PUT THE GLASS BACK! QUIIICK! I'M TOO SEXY TO DIE!' gasped the Tugger, grabbing wildly at Misto as they skidded out onto the tiled roof.

'I'M BLOODY TRYING! GET OFF ME! OH....CRAP...TOO LATE....' The smallest of the dogs, which was still considerably bigger than either of the cats, was halfway through the window.

'MISTO! FIREBALLS!' screamed Tugger, arms windmilling as he tried to keep his balance.

'Oh yeah...'

Misto span around and started bombarding the Pollicle, now dangerously close, with as much fire and lightning as he could muster. The confused pitbull retreated, yelping, and scrambled back through the window, obviously deciding it wasn't worth it.

'Yeah!' whooped the Tugger, punching the air in celebration. 'Eat fire, stupid mutt....aahhh...ooh...bugger...'

His air-punching had finally thrown him off balance, and he grabbed at Misto as he began to slip off the narrow roof-ridge.

'Rum, get off! You're too heavy!' shrieked Misto, struggling, but it was too late. Both cats were beginning to slide with increasing rapidity down the steep, wet roof, claws scrabbling hopelessly for purchase on slippery tiles. Tugger was screaming like a banshee, legs flailing frantically, arms clamped firmly around Misto's waist, and Misto's face was frozen in a silent wail of terror, eyes wide as they hurtled towards the edge of the roof. They shot past the dirty guttering, and for a sickening moment seemed to hang in the air, before plummeting the thirty or so feet towards the ground, where they landed in a sprawled heap among some piles of rubble and other garden refuse.

There was silence for almost a minute, both cats lying very still, eyes screwed shut in horrified anticipation of impending death. Eventually, the Tugger cautiously eased open one eye, and was confronted with Misto's pale face, mouth in a terrified grimace, paws clamped firmly over both eyes.

'Misto' Tugger muttered shakily 'are we alive?'

Quaxo opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a terrified squeak. Tugger sighed and carefully prized the little tuxedo's paws away from his eyes, but the smaller cat immediately buried his face in the Tugger's sandy mane and emitted another muffled squeak.

'Misto' said the Tugger, amused, 'It's alright, I think....I think we might actually be alive.'

Quaxo raised his head cautiously, and took a quick look around.

'Wow' he said faintly. 'Looks as if we are.'

'_How?' _questioned the Tugger, attempting to move his leg. 'Ow..ow....oww..... this really hurts....'

'Er, I managed to slow us down a bit, I think. You know, with magic...'

'Nice one. What would I do without you around?' Tugger chuckled. 'I see you managed to fix it that I landed on the bottom, as well.' He tried to lift his head, discovered that that hurt as well, and gave up.

Quaxo looked down, noticing for the first time that he was sprawled directly on top of the Tugger, who was spread-eagled on his back among the assorted piles of rubbish.

'Erm' he said, blushing slightly. 'That was nothing to do with me. '

'Yeah, whatever you say.'

'It wasn't! Come on, you're too skinny to be much of a cushion, I might as well have tried to break my fall with a toasting-fork.'

'Oh' said the Tugger, considering. 'Yeah, you could have been trying to use me as a soft landing....I hadn't thought of that....'

'What? Then why would I...' Quaxo caught the mischievous twinkle in the shaggy tom's eye, and groaned. 'Oh, for goodness' sake, I wasn't trying to....Believe it or not Rum, not everyone finds you as irresistible as you seem to think. Anyway, are you alright? Although I don't know why I care.'

'I'll live' grinned Tugger, suddenly his usual cheerful self again. 'And yes, I expect there are a few people, blind ones perhaps, who are immune to my charms....but you, my dear, are not one of them.' He chuckled at Quaxo's exasperated expression, and continued. 'Oh, and, Mistletoes?'

'How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?' growled Quaxo, attempting to clean his paws. 'It's a ridiculous name anyway, what have my toes got to do with anything?'

Tugger shrugged as best he could in his prone position. 'I just like them. They're cute little toes. I mean, I could start naming you after other bits of you I like....but Mistythighs doesn't sound quite as good, does it?'

Quaxo hissed and muttered murderous-sounding obscenities under his breath, not meeting Tugger's eyes. This fact was not lost on the Tugger, and neither was the delicate blush creeping across Quaxo's usually pearly-white face.

'...really should be sectioned' continued Quaxo, still ranting. 'Why do you have to reference_ any_ part of my anatomy? No, hang on, don't answer that, I don't want to know. You're just.....sick.....Anyway, _WHAT?'_

Tugger gazed innocently up at his housemate. 'Oh, I was just going to say.....maybe you should get off me. You know, in case you start getting all turned on or something. OW!'

Quaxo was pummelling Tugger's narrow chest with small fists, looking much like a kitten throwing a tantrum.

'WILL...YOU....BLOODY....STOP...IT!' he yelled furiously, between thumps. 'ITS...NOT....FUNNY!'

'Aah! Ow..ow...calm down, you crazy kit...ok, ok....' Tugger did his best to fend off Misto's feeble attack, grabbing his paws and attempting to hold him off. Misto struggled free, glaring, and gave Tugger a sneaky slap to the forehead. The surprised look on the bigger tom's face made him giggle, suddenly, and before he knew it he was laughing, all the tension and stress of the last half-hour or so bursting out in the form of uncontrollable mirth. Tugger gazed at him, baffled - he was almost weeping, fighting for air - and then, chuckling, tickled him briefly under the chin, which made the little tom squirm and let loose a fresh bout of laughter.

'Oh Rum' he gasped, several minutes later, wiping his eyes 'You are so....ridiculously conceited....I think you actually believe your own hype, don't you!' He let out a deep breath, managing to get himself under control.

Tugger pretended to give the matter lengthy consideration. 'Well' he replied, slowly, still in his attitude of deep thought, 'They say seeing is believing, don't they? And, well, I've got a mirror. Which offers me irrefutable proof that the 'hype', as you put it, is, in this case, true.' He broke the pose and wrinkled his nose conspiratorially at Quaxo. 'And you know it, 'Mister.''

'Trust me, Tugs' Quaxo giggled 'Even if I did, er, swing that way, which may I reiterate I DO NOT, I'd be unlikely to be 'turned on' by you at the moment .' Tugger raised a disbelieving eyebrow, but Quaxo continued, shaking his head. 'Seriously, you should see yourself. You're all dirty...stop giggling!...your mane's all over the place, your arms are all scratched up, you've got something grimy on your face, and –' he reached up and picked an unidentified object out of Tugger's shaggy head fur, grimacing ' -Everlasting only knows what _that_ is.'

'Harsh, Misty, harsh. I'm wounded to the core.' Tugger didn't look wounded to the core; in fact he looked perfectly content, and completely unruffled by Quaxo's criticism of his appearance. 'Anyway' he continued 'Are you going to get off me or not? Wouldn't want anything embarrassing to happen, would we? Your rampant arousal is probably going to get hard to control in a minute...'

Quaxo, deliberately not rising to the bait this time, looked down at the Tugger, sprawled at his ease beneath him, noticed again how close together their faces were, felt the warmth of his lanky frame pressed against his own, realised how utterly comfortable he was, and came to a decision.

'No' he said 'I'm bloody not. I'm quite comfortable right here, actually, and, if only to disprove your silly 'Quaxo is gay' theory by managing _not_ to be transformed into some kind of sex-crazed maniac by your mere presence, I'm going to stay put.'

'Fine by me' shrugged the Tugger. He grinned lazily up at Quaxo, and then, slowly and deliberately, stretched deliciously, eyes closed, every muscle in his long body tensing for a moment and then relaxing. He let out a warm sigh, laced his paws behind his head, and then looked up at Quaxo through heavy lids.

'You have pretty eyes' he said softly.

Wow, thought Quaxo, the princesses were right; he's very good at that. Even though I know he's just doing it to annoy me, for a moment there he almost had me believing him....

Out loud, he snorted in amusement and said 'Don't bother, it won't work. '

'What?' said the Tugger, the picture of innocence. 'I'm not trying to do anything! Can't I pay you a compliment? Sheesh, there's no pleasing you.'

'You know full well you're trying to seduce me, and it won't work.'

Tugger affected astonishment. 'Seduce you? Who said anything about seduction? _I_ was just stretching, but it's interesting to know what's on your mind....'

'Yeah, yeah, very clever. Well, try all you want. Your efforts will be entirely in vain, I'm afraid.'

'Fair enough. I give in. You're all about the ladies.'

Quaxo sniggered, overwhelmed by a sudden wave of cheerful abandon. 'And the magic!' he reminded the Tugger, propping himself up on dainty elbows. Tugger winced as their sharp points dug into his chest, but didn't complain. 'The magic and the ladies.' It sounded faintly ridiculous, even in his own ears.

'Yep. That's you.'

'Glad we agree on that.'

Tugger didn't reply, but without taking his eyes from Quaxo's, slowly began to draw one of his long legs in towards his body, deliberately sliding his calf and thigh up the length of Quaxo's jet-black ones, until his foot was flat on the ground and his bent knee pointing skywards. Quaxo stared back at him, amused, although his breathing was perhaps a little faster than before.

'Nice try' he muttered.

'I'm just getting comfortable. I told you' grinned the Tugger, looking as unconvincing as ever 'I believe you. You're just, er.... in touch with your feminine side. Which is why' he said, stretching his sleek arms above his head again, 'you won't mind me doing this. You know. Being comfortable with your sexuality and everything...'

'Doing wh-Oh, for...' began Quaxo, but Tugger had already brought one leopard-spotted paw up to the little cat's moon-white face and stroked a delicate finger up his cheek towards his temple. Misto froze, glaring daggers at the Tugger, but he didn't pull away. He was also, he realised, holding his breath.

'Yup' murmured the Tugger, seeming to have confirmed something. 'Your skin...it's even softer than I imagined...'

'Oh, sh..stopit...' said Misto weakly, his face burning. He'd never been good at receiving compliments.

Tugger trailed his paw back down Misto's face, and brushed a tentative thumb along his jawbone, sliding his fingers into the back of his slightly ruffled head-fur.

'What are you doing?'

'Nothing.' Tugger replied, accompanying this blatant lie with a cheeky grin, and a flutter of golden eyelashes. He slid his fingers deeper into the midnight fur, stroking in lazy circles up towards the top of Misto's head. Misto, gritting his teeth, forced himself not to lean into the touch; his natural instinct as a cat would have been to purr and rub his head affectionately against the other, whether it were human, cat or even friendly pollicle, and had it been anyone else he would have, but....this was different, somehow. In this case it would have meant a defeat of some kind, a foray into new and dangerous territory. 'Stop' he blurted, through clenched teeth.

'So... you don't like that?' said the Tugger softly, 'even a little bit?'

'No! And, uh.....oh.....'

Tugger was still was running his fingers through Misto's head fur, and the magician found himself beginning to feel warm, and drowsy, and dangerously comfortable; two parts of him were telling him to get up, throw something heavy at the Tugger and leave, the stubborn part of him was telling him to ignore the roving hands and stay put, and another part....No. Tugger brought his other paw up and slid it onto his shoulder, fingers curled into the hollows of his neck.

'Then you probably won't like this either.'

Tugger's paw slid down to Misto's narrow ribcage, and he began to run it down the length of his side, palm sliding over the bright ebony fur, moving slowly from his chest and ribs down to his slim waist. He reached his hipbone, brushed it gently with his fingers and then rubbed his thumb hard over it and Misto found himself gritting his teeth and tensing up completely to stop himself squirming away from it because it....tickled, or _something. _

'Don't....don't do that...'

He had little hope that Tugger would obey him, and sure enough he only chuckled and began to run his hand back up his body, trailing fingers over his chest. Misto held his breath, confusedly hoping that it would make his heart beat more slowly, but it just seemed to make it race even faster; Tugger chuckled softly and before Misto knew what was happening, he'd rolled them both onto their side, his arm curled under Misto's neck and one long leg hooked over his, effectively trapping him against a broken breezeblock.

'Eep' squeaked Misto, realising that somehow he'd totally lost control of this situation, and almost panicking. 'Not....mph...not fair...'

'Mmm' murmured the Tugger lazily, stroking a thumb over Misto's temple and smiling down at him. 'I never play fair. Ever.'

'You....ahhh...you moved....us......that means I can go....' Misto kind of knew what he was trying to say, but somewhere between his brains and his pale shaking lips it was all getting jumbled up and confused; Tugger's whole body was warm against him and his hands were making his head spin; why wouldn't he stop so he could just _think_ for a second? But he didn't, just kept smiling down at him and stroking his head and trailing his fingers down his stomach, his _stomach, _now, and he could taste his warm breath and it tasted nice, like all the things Misto liked best and oh everlasting, he thought feverishly, why can't I move? Misto's black eyes looked straight up into the Tugger's rich honey-brown ones, questioning, pleading, although he wasn't sure what for; all he knew was that somehow he couldn't look away.

'Yeah...but you haven't, have you?' smiled the Tugger, sliding a paw up an inky calf.

'Uh..'

'So.....you don't like _this_, then?'

'Ah...' Misto fought to keep his breathing steady as Tugger found the soft place behind his knee. 'No.'

'Or.....this?' Tugger's left hand rubbed slow circles behind his ears, while the other one trailed long fingers, slow and tantalising, further and further up the back of his thigh. Misto, all his muscles tensed up and now not breathing at all, may have actually squeaked, a tiny bit.

'Uhm.... No....'

'_Liar' _whispered the Tugger, and kissed him.

**...Yes, I am stopping there. How much do you hate me right now? Hah. For every review I get, I will do a dance, a different dance, while screaming WALLAWALLAWALLA! I _promise._ I might not reply, because I don't have internet very often, but I will do that. Honest. Rip, out.**


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